


The Arc of Conflict, Saga 15: Pebbles in Motion

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [102]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Double Agents, Elections, Espionage, Gen, Gods, Intimidation, Los Fantasmas are a DID collective, Manipulation, Nepal (Overwatch), Nonbinary Character, Numbani (Overwatch), Oasis (Overwatch), Overwatch Nepal, Overwatch Taipei, Politics, Post-Talon, Propaganda, Protests, Recruitment, Revolution, Russia, Secrets, Trans Sombra | Olivia Colomar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Katya Volskaya's government in Russia has destroyed the omnium Koschei, and held their own against the Gods of Oasis. With no point to additional fighting, the overt war has paused. But covertly, the conflict carries on. The gods, after all, still have a plan, and will do what is needed - one way, or another.Zarya's march is underway, and everyone from Moscow to Taipei is trying to figure out how it's happening - and what happens next.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflictis a continuance ofThe Arc of Ascension,The Arc of Creation, andThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. To follow the story as it appears,please subscribe to the series.
Relationships: Ana Amari & Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Katya Volskaya/Kamaria Tendaji (OC)
Series: Of Gods and Monsters [102]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024
Comments: 11
Kudos: 28





	The Arc of Conflict, Saga 15: Pebbles in Motion

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I was back up to speed for a while, and then, just as suddenly, I wasn't. But hey, Saga 15 is here!
> 
> dirtyclaws has launched [a public fan-run _Of Gods and Monsters_ discord server](https://discord.gg/pDZMpVT) and invites everyone to come join it. ^_^

_[Moscow]_

Kamaria watched the crowd, counting faces, scanning for expressions. An unnecessary thing - facial recognition would do it better, and in less time - but raw numbers, no matter how accurate and detailed, wouldn't give her the feel of the crowd. Not in the same way.

And the feel was... not very good.

Not terrible. Not like in opposition strongholds. This was a Party crowd, all but worshipping Katya Volskaya as the Saviour of Russia, and with some fair degree of cause.

But the war was supposed to be over. And somehow, now, it was not, and the people were growing very tired of war, particularly when it seemed a war they didn't have to fight, that wasn't a war of simple survival, waged at all costs because no cost is too dear when the alternative is extinction.

That kind of war could be fought forever.

This kind could not.

And yet, there was no real chance of losing power - elections were back on, but not for another two years, and the kind of stranglehold United Russia had on the Duma insured no snap election - a no-confidence vote could never pass, even if the PM herself were to call one. And even if she did, and even if it passed, and even if Katya lost the Presidency, her party would install her as PM. It wasn't even a question. The interchangeability of the two executive positions had been useful for power maintenance in the past, and remained just as useful now.

There wasn't anything to worry about. There couldn't be.

But even so, Kamaria knew her history.

The UK hadn't even waited for the end of World War II to throw out Churchill, the Hero of the Allies. And while Russia did not change its mind often, when it did, it tended to change it quickly, and sharply.

 _Katya knows this_ , Kamaria thought. _I know she does. We've talked about it._

She watched as her one-time lover finished her speech, to the expected thunderous applause. Occasionally, she missed the more skeptical crowds of her native Numbani. It's easy to make a properly-rehearsed crowd lie. But all that does is obscure the truth underneath, not replace it.

"Can we go home yet?"

Kamaria smiled down at Katya's daughter, tired from the pre-speech functions, needing a nap.

"I'm afraid there's another reception first," Kami replied. "But there will be food this time. If you can be brave and strong for your mother, I'll make sure to sneak you an extra slice of _ptichie moloko_."

Alina put on her most determined face and nodded as her mother strode off stage right, the curtains shifting behind her, the Master of Ceremonies taking back over, giving out the usual thanks, promoting the usual events, rallying everyone around the flag and the party, as one always, always does.

"That was _terrible_ ," Katya told Kamaria, as she knelt down in front of her daughter. "But I am very happy to see you waiting for me," she said to both her and Alina, as she hugged her child.

"Kami says there's another reception. And that I could have bird's nest cake."

" _If_ ," Kamaria said, "you are good."

"You _know_ how she'll be after," Katya groaned.

"I will not!"

"You will," Kamaria replied. "Your mother is right. But I promised. _If_ you're good."

"I'll be good! I promise. But then can we go home?"

"I would like nothing more."

"Her behaviour this evening is on _your_ head," Katya told Kamaria, with a glare.

Kamaria just snorted. "I helped raise my little sisters, I know how this goes. It's a fair trade."

Katya's expression softened, just a bit, as her bodyguards signalled their transport was ready. "Yes," she admitted. "I suppose it is."

\-----

_[Belogorsk, Amur Oblast, Russian Federation]_

Hanzo watched the rally grow to thousands of people, overflowing the old town square, an amalgamation of the displaced, of the relatives of the displaced, of the newly unemployed, of those blacklisted for their cooperation with the Concordat, and relatives of all those affected, and on, and on, and on, chanting slogans and waving signs not always polite.

Belogorsk hadn't always been so large. Until the Omnium, it had been a smaller city, known mostly for an odd name - "White Mountains," despite being on a flat plain with no mountains in sight - and recurring governmental corruption. Then came the Omnium, and the first war, and the evacuation of Yakutsk, and a housing problem which never ended - at least, not until Vishkar, and the Concordat. But now, they were gone, the buildings reduced to rubble, and all the old problems returned, right back to where they'd left off.

The protesters, Hanzo noted, seemed unconcerned by the presence of Federal police. He found this surprising, in the current environment. Perhaps it was because some of them _were_ Federal police, and not trying to hide it - flaunting it, almost, uniforms clean and boots shiny for display.

Other officers in the crowd, he observed, looked quite the opposite, those in uniform resentful of - angry about - being there in October sun. The meaning of the complex dynamic eluded him, but he noted it for study later.

Overwatch had taken a sharp interest in the growing reaction against Volskaya's crackdown on Vishkar. Rallies like these provoked those crackdowns quite effectively. Mei-Ling had suggested he might want to attend this rally in particular, via a bit of back-channel communication not shared with the Overwatch command structure, and so he took her advice, entering on a business travel visa, making his way north from China. And now he watched, and waited, standing well back, tracking police forces carefully, observing as they set up to weigh in, tracking their small provocations, looking for an excuse.

 _Their undercover agents will trigger some sort of event soon_ , he thought. _At least, that is the usual pattern._ Rallies and counter-protests near uncontrolled areas, instability, police and military either co-opted or forced out, the area under rebellion grows - unless stamped down, early, and fiercely.

Cracking down worked in the west, to a degree - but only to a degree, and it had not yet worked in the east. The east was different - the seemingly-spontaneous mass protests and marches had started not far from Far Eastern Federal University, that much was known with certainty. But it had stayed amorphous, until the last few weeks, when - quite suddenly - the movement had stabbed westward with determination, taking towns and stations - and most worryingly, military installations - from the Federal government.

 _Ah_ , he thought. _There._

A scuffle, and a flash, and a small _bang_ , and the crowd scattered away from a single point, not far into the crowd, about 10 metres from the edge. The Federal police rushed in, truncheons out, firearms ready, shoving protesters aside, having the excuse they'd wanted all along.

"HALT!" came a voice, loud, and absolute - a woman's voice, and the protestors targeted by police were suddenly wrapped in a rounded forcefield, bubble-shaped, blows useless against it. The attacking police turned towards the voice. "Do NOT become part of this crime!"

Aleksandra Zaryanova stepped forward, impossibly tall, impossibly strong, radiating power and authority unlike almost anything Hanzo had ever seen, and he watched the crowds step back, stunned by the sheer physical presence of the Hero of Russia, she whose visage had been plastered across every other recruitment poster and every other propaganda poster since the Siberian Omnium had awakened again.

The strongest woman in the world strode into position between the crowd and the stunned military police, facing them down.

"By the authority of all of the peoples of Russia, I _order_ you to abandon your weapons!"

Hanzo had his bow. Of course he did. It might've been the special covert collapsable, and not his favourite, and the arrows may be similarly well-hidden, but he had them nonetheless, and he had to fight himself not to obey. Seeing the police comply did not surprise him in the least.

 _What **is** she?!_ he thought, knowing full well exactly what she was. _It is one thing to be a hero. It is another to be... **this.** What have they **made** of her?_

"Comrades!" she shouted, her voice carrying through the square, even over the noise of the crowd. "You are not our enemies, and we are not yours! A great crime is being committed by Moscow - a war of cowardice and betrayal. Do not become a part of it!"

The police backed off, confused as a group and as individuals, their commander ordering them to hold a line. They did, but reluctantly, as the obvious members of their own force in the crowd began calling for them to surrender.

 _Those... they aren't part of the police forces anymore_ , Hanzo realised. _They're part of the rebellion, now. That is why they stand out. To be seen by their own._

"In the name of all Russia," she said, marching forward towards a group that had seemed so large, so powerful only a few minutes earlier, and which now suddenly seemed so very small, "I tell you now, do not fight us! We welcome you!"

"It's true!" shouted a police... sergeant, Hanzo thought, from her uniform.

Zarya smiled like sunshine, and saluted the woman, before turning back to the remaining Federal police.

"It is long past time to end this war. It does no one any good, and everyone great harm, and so, it is time for it to _stop!_ "

The crowd cheered at that, and she egged them on, a little bit, as the police took another step back.

"We are going to Moscow to set things right, and to end this pointless conflict. This _will_ happen. The peoples of Russia, united, cannot be stopped, and the peoples of Russia, united, will _not_ fail. Together, we are _strong_."

As the crowd cheered, Zarya - a literal goddess, looking for all the world like her own posters, come to life - extended her right hand to the police captain, palm up.

"Will you join us?"

\-----

`"They're getting help. I'm sure of it, now."`

LEITER leaned back in their chair, reading M's message, then typing their reply.

`"Agreed. We're assuming it's Oasis, we just don't know how. Amari's Talons have a little sway in Russian organised crime in the West, but they've been disorganised in the east since the Army swept in to pick over the omnium. And this movement - whatever it is - is coming in from the East."`

`"I'm afraid that doesn't feel right to me,"` came M's reply. `"Oasis as the primary supplier, I mean. Oh, they're most certainly sneaking in some kind of support, somewhere - Zaryanova's one of them now, after all, and sooner or later will go back to the fold. If we know that, they most certainly do. But..."`

M's typing paused. LEITER wondered whether she was thinking, or taking a sip of tea. The two options were equally possible.

`"But there are patterns to their methods. They are creative, but they tend to repeat what works, and patterns fall out from that. This doesn't match any of them."`

LEITER shifted in their chair. Overwatch had been quiet, but - they knew - not idle. `"Heard anything from our mutual friend?"`

`"Mutual friend had a friend of theirs in one of the towns the marchers captured last week. Supplies were already stockpiled, waiting to be picked up. Fuel, vehicles, food, cold weather gear - everything needed for a mass mobilisation, except arms."`

`"And nobody knows how they got there."`

`"Someone does. Someone arranged it, after all. A thousand separate deliveries, routed a thousand different ways - not unlike Amazon, before the first war, if you're old enough to remember that. It's damned good hacker work, which is the only part of this really pointing at Oasis right now."`

LEITER nodded, as they typed. `"No arms - and no Weapons."`

`"No sign of them. So far, the only familiar face on site is the Russian."`

`"That's _really_ not like Oasis."`

`"No. I suppose it's not."`

\-----

_[Watchpoint Nepal]_

"You should be sleeping, Jack."

Morrison shook his head, jostled out of the details of Hanzo's report. The archer was always observant, but he could also be deeply trenchant when he could be convinced to write it all down. "Ana?" he asked, looking up at the direct link to Taipei. "What are you doing up?"

Ana sat at her own desk, in her own office, the counterpart to his own. "The same thing you are, I wager. Worrying, and thinking too much. I thought if I checked in with you before I went to bed, I'd find you still up, and" - she smirked in a friendly way, turning her palms up - "there you are."

Jack looked at his desk clock. 2am. He rubbed around his eyes, annoyed with himself for staying up too late again. _How did I not notice the time?_

He stood up and stretched, pushing his chair back, but staying behind his desk. "I just can't figure out how Oasis is making this happen," he said as he tried to twist the kink out of his lower back. "It's not like Ziegler's going to be any help. She's denying everything, when she'll even deign to talk to me."

Ana's voice could not hide her distaste for her one-time friend. "That means she's probably coordinating it herself, with her... wives."

"Probably." He sighed, and leaned forward, hands flat on the surface of his desk, eyes skimming the report one last time and finding nothing new. "Thanks for checking in. I'll get myself to bed in a few minutes."

"Promise me, Jack."

The Commander snorted, and held up the smallest finger on his right hand. "Pinky swear. Good night, Ana."

Ana smiled, and reached to shut down the link. "Good night, Jack."

As Amari's image vanished, Jack glanced over to the large A displayed in one corner of the wall.

"Athena - do you have anything new from datamining?"

"I am sorry, Commander," Winston's daughter replied, "but I continue to find no major ties between material support for Zaryanova's march and either Oasis or Vishkar. The only substantial links have involved renewed contacts with housing authorities and former Concordat sites in consolidated areas. Vishkar in particular has been providing substantial emergency housing relief, but little to nothing to the marchers themselves."

"Thanks," Morrison said, shutting down his desktop screens. "Keep digging, Athena. The Oasis link has to be in there somewhere - we just have to find it."

"Of course, Commander."

\-----

_[several places, all at once]_

Athena's voice modulated softly into Sombra's ear.

"You realise, of course, that these sorts of tactics will only take Zaryanova's movement so far."

"Yeah, I know," Sombra's modulated back, floating in her bubble, her mind all but detached from her body. "It's only worked as well as it has with a lot of staging on the ground, softening things up. But they've got some pretty good momentum at this point. We might have to do less, not more."

She considered the many possibilities, for a few hundred milliseconds.

"I think you're underestimating her, though.”

“How so?” Athena asked.

“She was already the face of Russian resistance. It's not like they're gonna shoot at her. Not without orders from the Kremlin. Maybe not even then."

"That is not my concern," Athena replied, "though I do consider it more likely than you."

"On a less theoretical level, the logistics are already challenging," Maximillian reminded them both. "I can only launder and funnel money so quickly." His image - an actual video feed of physical space - drew a series of French curves across a piece of paper on his desk, intersecting them as he spoke. "The further west they go, the more material support they'll need. Russian Central Asia is not heavily populated - or provisioned - and the local mafias are determinedly insular. They do _not_ like outsiders - particularly not ones like myself."

"Indeed," Zenyatta intoned. "And while we have some presence on the ground in the east, the further towards Moscow they travel, the more shallow that presence will become. It is already becoming an issue; it will become a greater issue, soon."

"We only have to get 'em tired," Sombra insisted. "Volskaya's support is getting pretty soft. People are sick of all the wars, and they're even getting a little worn out with her. She retires in glory, missions accomplished, then the right successor steps up, they come to the table, and we wind this all down. As long as nobody's feeling threatened, it's not a matter of pride, right?"

The hacker snorted, mostly at herself.

"Hana had the right idea, you know. Just the wrong way of going about it. You don't intimidate the Russians, you make them decide they've already won. And then they'll declare victory, and drop it."

"Strange, still," Maximillian said, "for you to be trying to _stop_ a war, rather than start one."

"I'm not as good at it," Sombra admitted to her old ally. "But I still think it'll work." _At least_ , she thought, only to herself, _I sure hope it will._

"And if it does not?" Alejandra asked, quietly, from the deep, in Spanish.

Sombra shrugged, or at least, gave the electronic impression of shrugging. "Then... that's what we're here for, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Athena agreed, "you are."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the thirty-first instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflict_. To follow the story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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